TESLA

Falls and rigged roads
bubbling with mercy
telegrams from Mars
tapped out in the lines of my hands
dynamite paths
and the high rock around them
sending through me
derailed messages,
issues of broadband cloth
and the masks of their mail,
highway paint zagging
cross the radio dial
the laundry lid and the telephone factor
personas linked in time
to disintegrate
in the barred hereafter,
the curve of bridges
leaping thumping cars,
gridwork tapped and oiled
hammers moving in the shoreline dusk
spikes of pine fanned out
on a rocky cloud
the flag of the sun
rippling over

my driver's seat door
dragging chandeliers
wind propped open by a feather
counters gleaming
the empty number glaze
hollow body above which
I am rising.